Look up.
What do you see?
Is it the clouds dancing through the sky,
Wearing hues of orange and pink?
Or the way they dance to the cricket’s hum,
And the tempo of a cool breeze.
How they leap towards the setting sun,
Bounding across the horizon.
Maybe it could be the bird on his perch,
Crowning the tip of a great pine tree.
Accompanying the sky with a sweet soprano song.
Possibly the rustle of the leaves,
Who roar with applause at nature’s cabaret,
Beckoning an encore.
It must be the infinity of it all…
The clouds never follow the same routine,
And the bird never chirps the same ballad.
Look up,
And you’ll find summer.